


Wards and Weaknesses

by ohmarqueliot



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Gen, M/M, Mind Reading, Soulmates, Wards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-14 13:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16913454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmarqueliot/pseuds/ohmarqueliot
Summary: Penny discovers that he's the only person who can see through Quentin's wards. Written for AnnCherie





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnnCherie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnCherie/gifts).



> Credit for this idea goes to AnnCherie, who kind of came up with this idea and let me run with it. There may or may not be follow ups to this already taking over my brain.

“I can't see anything else about magnetism in regards to spellcasting,” Alice said, frowning in frustration, her eyes following her finger as it trailed down the page. Reaching the end, she skimmed through the last few pages and then closed the book with a sigh. “There’s a whole about adjusting for the circumstances, but nothing about channelling it. We really need that other book.”

Closing his own book, Quentin stretched his arms behind his back, groaning slightly with the effort. Because apparently the guy couldn’t sit still for half an hour without needing to shift positions every two minutes. Penny resisted the urge to roll his eyes, then gave into it when he caught the thought in Quentin’s mind before he spoke it. “Are you sure you can't just… read the librarian’s mind to find out who has it?”

_ The nerve on this fucking kid _ . “Unlike some people,” he said with a sarcastic cheeriness, “she actually knows how to ward her damn mind.”

Quentin stiffened, his cheeks immediately starting to turn pink.  _ Dick _ , he thought at him, his inner voice intentionally loud. Penny held his gaze evenly, not responding past a challenging quirk of his eyebrow. Did he think he cared about what he thought?

After a few seconds Quentin looked away, and Penny smirked, shaking his head. How did he think he’d ever hold his own against him with backbone like that? Quentin mumbled something under his breath that Penny, of course, managed to hear anyway through his thoughts.  _ Give me a goddamn break already, I literally  _ can’t _ get them any stronger. _

“Maybe we'll just have to call it for today, until we can get that book,” Alice said, and Penny gratefully turned his attention back to her. At least she knew how to keep herself contained. “We still have a week to finish the paper.”

“Sounds good to me,” Quentin said, starting to stack the library books into a pile. He hadn't gotten a lot of sleep the night before thanks to the party Eliot and Margo had thrown, and all he wanted to do was crawl into his bed and lose himself in the familiar comfort of Fillory.  _ That's an idea, _ Quentin thought, a spike of excitement running through him as he remembered what was going to happen in the part he was up to.  _ If the Cozy Horse could just come along and take me back to my room - _

_ Oh my fucking god. _

He couldn’t take it anymore. Penny leaned over the table, needing to make sure Quentin heard him. “I swear to god, Coldwater, if I have to hear one more thing about those stupid children's books, I'm going to hunt them down and burn every single one they ever printed.” Quentin stared at him wide eyed, speechless in a blend of hurt, embarrassment, anger. Penny spied that second year psychic walking past their table, what was her name? “Yo, Camille,” he said, waving at her when she paused and looked over to him. “Can't you put a block on  _ my _ mind so I don't have to hear his bullshit anymore?”

Frowning, Camille turned her eyes to Quentin for a few long seconds, and then back to him in confusion. “What are you talking about? Your friend's wards are air tight.”

Penny laughed humourlessly. “Okay first of all, in no universe is he my friend. And secondly - I don't know what game you're playing but it's not funny. He's not funny, it's not funny, he's going to drive me  _ literally _ insane.”

Camille just stared at him blankly. “I honestly don't know what you're talking about. His wards are as strong as I've seen them.”

That was… not possible. When he didn't answer, Camille shrugged at him apologetically and continued past their table into a stack of bookshelves. Silence stretched out between them, and he didn’t know what to say to fill it. “I told you my wards were strong,” Quentin said grumpily, and Penny felt a combination of frustration and smugness flowing from him. “It's you that's fucking up, not me.”

He looked across at them, and found Alice staring at him curiously. “That's not how it works though, is it?” she said cautiously, as though she were worried about setting him off with whatever was going through her mind. He’d never been more grateful for the strength of her wards. “If his wards are strong, that should keep everything out from everyone. Except maybe a specialist and you don't have that training. What does this mean?”

Alarm and confusion flooded him in waves, amplified by the same coming from across the table. Without looking at Quentin, he forced those feelings down and pushed himself to his feet, grabbing his books and stuffing them roughly into his bag. “Whatever,” he said, scowling at the two of them. He didn't have some… weird psychic bond with Quentin. With  _ Quentin _ . “I'm out.”

Stalking through the library, he tightened his hand on the strap of his bag, breathing slowly as he compartmentalised his mind to shove those thoughts down,  _ down, down _ .

One kept escaping.

_ What the hell does this mean? _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin tells Margo and Eliot that Penny is the only one who can see through his wards, and doesn't like what Margo has to say about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So remember how I posted this as a oneshot? It’s no longer a oneshot. Oops.

Pushing the door to the cottage open, Quentin stepped inside and slammed the door behind him. He didn’t mean to slam it  _ so _ hard that everyone in the common room stared up at him, but he could hardly take it back. Channelling that embarrassment into his already palpable frustration, he trudged through the common room, dropping his bag onto the floor and himself onto the couch.

He barely had time to close his eyes and breathe out his anger before he felt the dip in the couch and opened his eyes again to see Eliot and Margo sitting on the couch beside him. Eliot leaned against the back, his arm draped along the top behind Quentin, and Margo sat sideways on Eliot's other side, her left leg draping over his and her right tucked underneath it. “What’s up your ass?” she said irritably, inspecting her nails as though they were far more interesting than anything he could offer.

Eliot rolled his eyes at her, then turned back to Quentin. “What she said, but really. Tell us, we’re so bored and want your drama.”

Crossing his arms over his stomach, Quentin frowned at them. He still couldn’t figure them out, or what they wanted with him. But they were about as close a thing as he’d come to friends in this place, so… why not? Sighing, he gestured in the vague direction of the library. “Penny stood me up again,” he complained, immediately aware of how he sounded and tripping over his next words in order to clarify what he meant. “We have this paper due in two days and he's been avoiding me ever since we found out that he's the only one who my wards don't work on.”

Margo stilled, dropping all semblances of not giving a shit as she leaned forward, her hand closing around Eliot’s arm. “Hold up. What are you talking about?” she said slowly.

Quentin hesitated, a little put off by her sudden interest. It actually seemed… genuine. “He's been harassing me since we got here about the strength of my wards,” he explained. “But they work perfectly fine on the other psychics.”

Eliot leaned back against the couch, draping his other arm on the couch behind Margo. “So poor psychic boy is the one who can’t keep his boundaries in tact,” he said wistfully. “How poetic.”

 _Poetic. Right._ Quentin couldn’t think past _serves you fucking right for hanging all of this on me, asshole._ Still, he had homework to complete, and he wasn’t going to let Penny fuck up his grades at _magic school._ He needed this place. “Yeah, well I wish he'd fix it before tomorrow, or at least just suck it up and deal with it.”

“Wait. Just wait one goddamn second.” Margo had been watching him with obviously building excitement, and now her mouth widened into about as smug a grin as he’d ever seen on her. “Honey, homeboy's in love with you.”

_ … What? No. _

_ No _ .

Lifting himself up against the back of the couch, Eliot looked excitedly between the two of them. “Ooh, a twist,” he gushed dramatically.

Quentin was… not excited. He couldn't think of anything more ridiculous. Or alarming. He raised his eyebrows at Margo sceptically. “Have you met Penny? He can't stand me.”

“Who cares about whether he can stand you?” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “He doesn't have a choice and baby, neither do you. He's your soulmate.”

She said it so solemnly, but as soon as the word left her lips Quentin groaned, slumping against the back of the couch. He felt a moment of relief that Eliot looked just as exasperated as he felt.  _ Soulmates? Yeah, right. _ “What, I'm serious,” Margo protested, clearly less than impressed with their response. “Don't you remember Sophia from last year?” she said, nudging Eliot in the ribs. “She was an Illusionist who was dating someone from the third year class, Jacinda.” Her voice had taken on a storytelling quality. “Jacinda was a psychic, and nothing could keep Sophia's mind closed from her. They looked into it, and apparently it's this full on soulmate, joined for life kind of deal. You're stuck with each other. Forever.”

That sounded like worse than hell. A whole lifetime with Penny? He couldn't cope. “That's not what this is.”

“It sounds like that's what this is,” Margo said, sounding entirely unsympathetic. “You're his soulmate, Coldwater. Hope you're into that. I don't think there's any way out of it, even in death. Sophia was so traumatised after Jacinda went missing with the rest of the third year class that she quit school.”

“Yeah, right,” Eliot scoffed. “She overdosed and checked into rehab.”

“Because of what happened,” Margo insisted. Shaking her head at Eliot, she turned back to Quentin, smiling at him reassuringly. Or with what he would have thought was reassurance, if not for the fact that it came from Margo. “It's a beautiful thing. Really.”

It didn't feel like a beautiful thing. It felt like a nightmare. She was having him on, right? She had to be. He shouldn’t fall for it, he shouldn’t, except… There had to be a reason why Penny had so blatantly avoided him all week. “The rest of my life?” he repeated weakly, unable to believe it. “I - I - I can't do this with - with  _ Penny _ .”

Tossing his head back against the couch, Eliot started to laugh, quietly at first and then louder, until he was wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. Quentin wasn't sure if they were the real kind or just for effect, but he wasn't impressed. “Oh, just picture it,” Eliot said, dissolving into another fit of giggles. “You and Penny, sitting on the porch in your rocking chairs.”

Margo pursed her lips together, reaching past Eliot to put her hand on his thigh. “Honey, I'm sorry to be the one to point this out for you, but a soulmate isn't someone you can choose. At least not the magical kind.” She shrugged, leaning back against the arm of the chair and straightening her other leg so both of her heeled feet rested in Eliot’s lap. His hand went automatically to rest on her ankles, finally starting to calm down. Quentin didn't feel calm. “Just give it time, and you'll be blowing each other while declaring your lives to each other until the end of time.”

Dropping his arm properly around him, Eliot patted him on the shoulder. “Don't worry, my someone else's other half,” he said cheerily, pulling him against his side. “Think about all of that pent up aggression he has. Those types are always so…  _ active _ . If you know what I mean. Please tell me you know what I mean.”

He knew what he meant. Grimacing at Eliot and pointedly ignoring the delight on Margo’s face, he instead looked down to stare at his own hands twisting in his lap. “Yeah, that's not what I want to think about right now, thanks.”

He didn't want a life with Penny. He wanted someone who actually loved him, someone who he loved. He wanted a life he could  _ choose _ .

Apparently that was too much to ask for.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin confronts Penny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the love for this so far, I'm having so much fun writing it. Special mention goes to the folks at FTB, who are endlessly supportive.

Forcing a smile at the Psychic student who had answered the door, he thanked her for pointing him in the direction of Penny’s room and then turned to regard the closed door. It was covered with a variety of symbols that he didn’t recognise, but it was easy to assume that they were either of the ‘keeping stuff in’ or ‘keeping things out’ kinds of sigils.

He wondered if any of them were the ‘keeping Quentin out’ kind.

Or whether there was _actually_ one that was a ‘keep soulmates out.’ Was it that big, dark, black one that stretched two feet across? Probably, considering the lengths Penny had gone to avoid him for the past few days.

Alice had finally managed to get his portion of the paper from him, and with that joint project out of the way Quentin had been quite happy to do his part in avoiding Penny. He didn’t want to deal with any of this any more than Penny seemed to.

Except he really just needed to know what the hell was going on.

And, turns out, he didn’t need to be as nervous around the psychic dorms as much as he’d thought he did. Because _his wards were perfectly fine, thank you very much._

Before he could decide whether he should knock or just open the door (or walk away, that was another good option), the door opened and Penny’s irritated face was staring back at him. “Get in or get out, but I am _not_ going to sit here and listen to you weigh up your options all fucking day.”

Turning around, Penny disappeared into his room, leaving the door ajar behind him. Stuffing down his embarrassment at being caught out, Quentin hesitated for a moment before following him inside.

Penny’s room was just about as bare as it had been when the two of them had shared a dorm in the main house. There were none of the candles and crystals and incense that filled the Psychic common room and it was an odd relief to find that familiarity with Penny. Not that he _wanted_ any familiarity with Penny. This was all too weird already.

And now he was staring at Penny’s belongings, while the man himself was standing just a few feet from him, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyebrow cocked. Because he could hear all of his thoughts. And none of the others could. Because they were -

“I don’t like that word,” Penny said, his voice gruff and his eyes going steely.

Quentin held his hands up defensively, holding back his retort that if he wasn’t invading his mind then he wouldn’t have had to hear it. “Fine, whatever,” he said defensively, hunching his shoulders at the way Penny stiffened in response to thing he didn’t even say. “But did you know that’s what this is?” He didn’t even want to say it himself. He didn’t want it to be true. He’d come here hoping that Penny would shut him down, that he’d laugh off Margo’s idea and just say it was some weird thing that happened sometimes, but he was… not doing that.

Penny’s glare increased. “Do you think _I_ want it?” he snapped. “Yeah, I know about it. Now, anyway. I’m not surprised your gossip queen knows, but it’s not common knowledge outside the psychics. And even then, I had to practically force the info out of them. Apparently they don’t want to freak us all out about what can happen.”

 _What can happen_. The thought of him being inconsolable enough to overdose if something happened to Penny made an involuntary nervous laugh bubble up in his chest, but he managed to catch it before it could burst out of him. He immediately felt guilty - Penny was a dick, sure, but he was still a person. A person who was glaring at him right now. “Is there a way… out?” he asked, sobering quickly when he remembered what had led him here in the first place. He couldn’t be connected to Penny forever. He’d kill himself from the proximity before any kind of separation would get him.

“What do you think?” Sighing heavily, Penny let his arms drop to his sides. He looked just as defeated as Quentin felt. “And look,” he added quickly, “it doesn’t have to be a romance thing or whatever, okay, so you can get that out of your head.” He screwed his face up in disgust and Quentin somehow managed to feel offended at the same time as he was flooded with relief. “Apparently it could just mean that there’s some shared experience that ties us together, or that we’ll need each other for, or something like that.” He rolled his eyes, showing just how highly he thought of that idea. After a moment his eyes snapped back to his, and he took a step forward, looking down at him intimidatingly. “But I do not need you, do you understand me?” he said, speaking slowly to emphasise his point. “I don’t need anyone. So you can just stay the hell away from me, and we’ll be fine.”

Quentin frowned up at him, not wanting to let him see him cowed. Half the reason why Penny made him so anxious was because he’d always felt like… less than everyone else for not being able to manage one of the most basic and instinctual magics. He’d thought that someone who was used to hiding their broken mind from the world should be better at _literally_ hiding it from the world, but of course he would fuck this up too.

Except he didn’t fuck it up. As that other psychic had said, his wards were as good as anyone else’s.

It didn’t stop Penny from being able to see his thoughts, but at least no one else could. And at least it wasn’t his fault.

That was worth something.

It made the set of his shoulders easier, the lift of his chin, the narrowing of his eyes. “Yeah, well – stay away from me, too,” he said boldly.

“Good,” Penny said, raising his eyebrows. “I will.”

“Good.” He looked at him pointedly, and it took Quentin a moment to realise what he was getting at. “Now. Right, right, obviously. Um.” Nodding to him - because that’s apparently what you did with your soulmate - _fuck, sorry, I'm sorry,_ he thought loudly as anger flashed across Penny’s face - he turned and slipped through the door, avoiding the curious gaze of the rest of the Psychic dorm as he left.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin hurts himself, and Penny is there to help out.

Without slowing his pace, Quentin opened his messenger bag and thumbed through it quickly, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw his copy of  _ Amelia Popper’s Practical Exercises for Young Magicians. _ They’d passed this reading level months ago, but Professor Sunderland had advised them to bring it to their next lesson and he was  _ almost _ sure he’d forgotten it. But no, it was right there, and Quentin breathed a sigh of relief.

He managed to take two whole steps before it occurred to him to worry about whether he’d also grabbed his textbook with all of his notes in it.

Digging through his bag, he used one hand to pull it up higher so he could see better as his other hand riffled through his things, too late to pause to check properly considering he  _ knew _ that he had it. But he just had to be sure...

He didn’t realise when he reached the edge of the lawn.

And didn’t notice the step from the grass to the path.

When his foot expected solid ground and found only air, his whole body jerked to correct itself, but he didn’t react quick enough before his foot hit the ground hard at the wrong angle and _ twisted _ . Pain shot through his leg and he fell to the ground, the concrete path hard and unyielding against his hands and ass as he tried and failed to catch himself. The raw scratches on his palms were nothing to the sharp pain shooting from his ankle, and he held onto his leg tightly, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to breathe through the pain, his teeth sinking hard into his lower lip.

_ Fuck. _

“Quentin?”

_ Because of course this couldn’t get any worse. _ Forcing his eyes open, he glared up at Penny, who was hovering above him. He almost thought he caught a flash of concern before his face settled into his usual combination of irritation and boredom. “Jesus, dude, I can hear you screaming from the library. Calm the fuck down already.”

_ Calm the…  _ Was he  _ serious,  _ right now? “I’m not screaming,” he said, hating how strained his voice sounded but also kind of relieved that it didn’t come out worse.

“Yeah, maybe not aloud,” Penny said, rolling his eyes. He moved slightly, paused, and then let out a short, sharp sigh as he bent down to grab Quentin’s arm.

“What are you - oh.” When he realised Penny was trying to help him up, he reluctantly grabbed onto him and let him pull him to his feet. Balancing on his shoulder, he tried to take a step and crumpled under the pain that spiked up his leg.  _ Damn it.  _ He was already late as it was. “I just… I just have to get to class, and I’ll be fine.”

Penny looked down at him incredulously as he pulled his arm around his shoulders, his own wrapping around Quentin’s waist. “Yeah, right. I’m not going to listen to your whining for the next hour as you try and put up with… all of that.”

“But -”

“Stop talking, or you’re getting to the infirmary by yourself.”

Quentin opened his mouth to continue arguing, but then Penny’s arm tightened around him, effortlessly supporting so much of his weight that his left foot didn’t even have to touch the ground, and he decided against pushing the point.

Thanks to Penny, they made it to the infirmary in just a few minutes, and Quentin explained what had happened as Penny helped him onto one of the beds. The Healing student pushed up the leg of his pants and was halfway through undoing the laces of his Converse when he realised Penny was still there, leaning back against the next bed with his arms crossed over his chest. He frowned at him, surprised that he hadn’t bailed as soon as they’d walked through the door. Surprised, actually, that he’d helped him at all. “You don’t have to stay,” he said hesitantly.

Penny’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “I wasn’t,” he said, dropping his arms and turning to the student. “Feel free to give him something that knocks him out, to give  _ me _ a break.”

The healing student raised her eyebrows at him as Penny disappeared through the door. “What was that about?”

He grimaced. The last thing he wanted was to get into  _ that _ right now. “He's psychic.”

“Ah,” she said, as though that explained everything. “Having trouble with your wards?”

Quentin sighed heavily, and then winced despite her care as she pulled his shoe from his foot. “Something like that.”

* * *

Parties always had the potential to be both the best and worst time for Penny.

The parties at Brakebills were usually pretty good. Sure, most people's wards started to slip the closer to drunk they got, but at least most of the people at Brakebills had decent wards to start with, and a sloppy ward was better than nothing. Plus, there was usually no shortage of drugs or alcohol to help him block it all out.

It was one of the Illusionists’ birthdays, and the party they’d thrown wasn’t terrible. Or rather, the alcohol they were serving wasn’t terrible. He wasn’t sure exactly what was in the punch, because it was spelled to taste like whatever you wanted it to taste like. Ladelling some into a plastic cup, he lifted it to his nose to breathe in the smell of espresso martini, his brow furrowing when instead all he could smell was strawberries.

_ Oh, for fuck’s sake. _

Looking around the room, he quickly found Quentin, propped up on the couch with a whole bunch of pillows shoved around him in an effort to keep him comfortable while his friends danced their hearts out.  _ Yeah, some friends. _ The pain in his ankle from his fall two days ago had been muted thanks to the painkillers the infirmary had given him, but since it wasn’t serious they’d decided against healing it with magic, so Quentin was left to suffer through it. Which would have been fine, if his ‘friends’ hadn’t hassled him into coming out with them and then promptly left him to fend for himself.

Penny saw all of that and more with just a glance. He could see through Quentin’s pity party enough to know that Alice had actually only left him alone two minutes ago to use the bathroom, and Eliot and Margo just a few minutes before that, but he was hardly surprised to hear Quentin sulking through it all. It was the dude’s default state, had been since the moment he’d laid eyes on him. Excited puppy or sad puppy, with very little in between.

Sad puppy wanted a drink, and now he was craving blueberry, if the smell of the liquid in Penny’s cup was anything to go by. He didn’t want to knock his ankle if he got up. Sighing defeatedly, he poured a second cup and strode across the room, shoving it in front of Quentin’s face.

Quentin stared at it for a few seconds before blinking up at him blankly. “What’s this?” he asked hesitantly.

_ Nothing _ . Penny’s automatic response was defensive and he shoved it down, pursing his lips in annoyance instead. “Just take the damn drink, already.”

“Um - thank you,” Quentin said, sounding thoroughly confused as he took the cup from him. “Um -” he started again, but Penny was was already heading for the exit, tossing back whatever passionfruit cocktail that Quentin was now craving and dropping his empty cup on the closest surface before he ducked out the front door.

* * *

Rubbing his bare arms against the cold, Quentin looked longingly at the thick coat that Alice had wrapped herself in. Penny sat on his other side, showing no signs of complaint despite his barely-buttoned shirt and the goosebumps on his arms.

The three of them had been thrown together for another project, because of course they were. It was an exercise in cooperative magic that had sounded so easy in principle, because the spell that they were doing was simple. When you did it by yourself, at least. All they had to do was create a barrier between them and the cold night air, but they had to pick the spell apart and each cast a separate part in tandem.

It wasn’t going so well.

Quentin had thought that braving the weather with just a t-shirt on would inspire him to create the bubble that would block out the chill, but so far all it was doing was distracting him. “I need a break,” he said, shaking out his hands to try and get some feeling back into his fingers.

Alice nodded, rubbing at the back of her neck. “Yeah, okay. Just a few minutes.”

Pushing himself to his feet, he headed back inside the cottage, testing his full weight on his left foot as he walked. The sprain hadn’t been bad and the pain had reduced to just a mild discomfort if he walked on it for too long, and right now it didn’t bother him at all. Not like the cold, which was creeping into his bones.

In his bedroom, he took the sweater from his bed and pulled it over his head, then fetched his coat from his closet as well, hesitating when he spied a blanket folded in the corner. Grabbing the blanket too, he went back downstairs. He started to unfold it as he approached the others, dropping it around Penny’s shoulders before he sat down.

Nobody said anything for a few seconds, and once Quentin had settled himself again on the cold grass, he glanced up to find Penny staring at him, his brow knit together in confusion. “Why?” he asked slowly.

Quentin groaned in exasperation.  _ Can’t I even do something  _ nice _ without getting my ass kicked for it? _

“No, I mean -”

“I don’t need to be a mind reader to be observant,” he said quickly, trying to shrug it off. Alice was eyeing them both curiously, and he did not want that. Anyone would be cold in this weather, no matter how much they didn’t want to show it. He wasn't sure whether he'd call it making an effort, or if Penny really realised what he was doing, but he'd turned up with exactly the thing he needed more than once over the past few weeks. Things had felt marginally less antagonistic since he'd hurt his ankle, and is was kind of… nice. He could make an effort too.

Penny snorted, wrapping the blanket more firmly around his shoulders. “Dude, you’re one of the least observant people I’ve ever met,” he said, but there was considerably more mirth and less snark in his voice than usual. He was  _ smiling. _

Taken aback, Quentin looked at him curiously, feeling an unexpected touch of… something. Penny’s shoulders stiffened, frowning again, and Quentin quickly shoved it down.  _ Some goddamn appreciation would be nice _ , he thought loudly, scowling pointedly at Penny.

He held in his sigh of relief when Penny just rolled his eyes before turning back to Alice. “Whatever, Coldwater.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny has a gift for Quentin, and gets an unexpected response in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks for this goes to the folks on FTB, and specifically AnnCherie, for the inspiration and for being so supportive along the way. I hope you like how it all wraps up!

Stepping through the door to the Physical cottage, Penny sought out Quentin, finding the familiar tone of his thoughts from the direction of his bedroom. His mind was the interesting blend of words and images and feelings that it took on when he was reading, and… okay, as much as he hated to admit it, he was a little bit in awe of the way he could completely immerse himself in something like that.

When Penny recognised the scene as coming from _The Girl Who Told Time_ , he adjusted the package under his arm, a fond smile tugging at his lips. At least the guy was predictable.

Without knocking, he opened the door to Quentin’s room and found him exactly as he’d expected - lying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows with his feet kicking idly through the air and the second Fillory book open on the bed in front of him. Quentin looked up and stiffened when he saw him, freezing for a moment before scrambling to sit up. “Um - hi?” Quentin said, his book closed and half-hidden in his lap as though he didn’t already know what he’d been reading. Like he expected anything different by now.

Closing the door behind him, Penny walked across to the bed, holding the package out to Quentin . Quentin just stared at it blankly, and Penny rolled his eyes, pushing it further towards him. “It's not going to bite you,” he said dryly.

Quentin continued to look at the package, eyes narrowed warily as though he were offering him a goddamn bomb or something, before he raised them to meet his. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Just take it.”

Hesitantly, Quentin took the package, frowning at it for a few more seconds before he slid the tip of his finger through the gap in the brown paper to lift the tape. Penny felt a moment of - god, was that nervousness? - and considered bailing on the whole situation, just leaving Quentin to it, but he was already unwrapping the paper and turning the book over in his hands. Instead, he focused on Quentin's thoughts.

And got nothing.

For the first time since he'd turned up late to their entrance exam, Quentin's mind was silent.

It only lasted a moment before a manic barrage of _what - why - but - no - wait - what - no - but_ flooded his thoughts, an incomprehensible wave of confusion that made Penny instantly uncomfortable. “It's not a big deal,” he said quickly, crossing his arms over his chest when Quentin looked up at him. His eyes were wide, his mouth open, and why wouldn't he just _say something?_ “I found it when I was looking for something else, and I figured it was something you'd like.”

He shrugged uncomfortably, grateful that the mind reading didn't go both ways so Quentin couldn't see the truth in his thoughts. It made him feel cautious, but he liked feeling the swell of warmth that came from Quentin when he did something nice. He was pretty sure Quentin had no idea that he was giving off that feeling, and he certainly wasn’t about to tell him. Although he didn’t want to admit it, it almost made the constant barrage of stupid thoughts worth it. Almost.

Quentin stared up at him, shaking his head. “Penny… This is a first edition of _The Girl Who Told Time._ You don’t just… stumble across it while you’re looking for something else,” he said slowly, turning the book over in his hands and smoothing his hand over the hard cover. He looked down at the Fillory book, his face doing this weird twisty thing where he looked like he was going to cry and laugh at the same time. “You have to go looking for it. And pay a lot of money for it.”

“Whatever,” Penny said, feeling uncomfortable when Quentin turned that same look on him. He shrugged, going for dismissive but knowing he was coming across defensive instead. Why couldn’t he just accept the gift? “Didn't you have a birthday last week?”

Untangling his legs, Quentin scooted forward to the edge of the bed and stood up, the book held tightly between both of his hands. “My birthday was three months ago.”

Couldn’t he just do a nice thing? “Just… it's yours, okay?” he said tersely. Quentin continued to stare at him, his thoughts still just an overflow of warmth and confusion… until the confusion started to solidify.

 _Why would he do this? He still hates me, right? He hasn't been such a monumental dick lately, sure, but he still can't stand you, and he made it clear that he doesn't want_ -

Quentin’s thoughts, clear in his rising disorientation, cut off into more of a feeling than coherent words, and the strength of it threw him off guard. It was… hope and admiration, disbelief and affection, and Penny stared at him in wonder, something in his chest tightening unbearably. It flooded him completely but then was cut off as abruptly as it started, and Penny realised that Quentin was shoving it down, locking it down tight, and - _this_ was the one thing that he managed to keep from him? Had Quentin felt that before and he’d missed it? Or ignored it?

He wanted to feel it again, but Quentin’s eyes were back on the book, his brow deeply furrowed as his mind returned to the mantra of _this is just some kind of trick or something, right, he doesn’t want anything to do with you, but why would he spend his money on something like this for you, why would he go out of his way to -_

“Stop overthinking everything all the god damned time, for fuck's sake,” he said irritatedly, not willing to listen to one more second of that blatant self-pity and self-doubt. Especially if what he'd just seen inside his heart was true. Taking two quick steps forward, he slipped his hand around the back of Quentin's head and pressed his mouth firmly against his.

The sense of panic was so strong that Penny tried to pull away almost instantly, but firm fingers twisted in his shirt as Quentin parted his lips against his and he took the hint, pulling him closer instead.

Ah, there was that feeling again.

He felt it too.


End file.
